James
by Harthad
Summary: An origin story of my OC character, James Plumber. He's a bit scary.
1. Chapter 1

"Father, look what I made—"

"Not now, James."

James sullenly turned away from the dark doorway of his father's study, tightening his grip on the brightly coloured drawing of the New York City skyline he had drawn in art class. At only nine years old, James was the smartest in his grade, but his busy father didn't seem to care. James strode down the hall, taking a glance back as the figure of his father closed the door of his study. No doubt he was going to discuss more 'important matters' with the other businessmen of the city. James sighed dismally, leaving his drawing in his room where he traded it for a striped green jacket which he carefully shrugged on. He was free to wander wherever he chose for the next half hour before suppertime, although he would have gladly picked a meeting with his father rather than walking all over the city. The maids, either out of fear or respect, didn't dare to stop him as James exited the stately Victorian manor and walked out into the breezy streets of New York. He traded a penny with a newsboy not much older than he was, and took the evening edition of The World to try and seem like a proper gentleman. James took a seat on a rickety old bench on the corner in front of a bright brick building not far from the newsboy with the blue hat. James shot him a look of contempt as the boy cheerfully spat on his hand to greet a gray-capped newsie with spectacles. Crinkling open the newspaper, James had just caught sight of a particularly lovely gruesome headline when he was rudely interrupted again.

"Jack, Jack, look what I made!"

"Woah, slow down, kid. What is it?"

James threw a glare up to see a young crippled boy limp up to the blue-hatted newsboy. The newsboy (Jack, was that his name?) bent down to the younger boy's level. The small boy rested his arm on his cloth-covered crutch as he took out a piece of newspaper painted with swaths of green, pink and orange so much that the words hidden underneath were barely indistinguishable. There was a big yellow blob in the corner that might have been a crude sun.

"Look, Jack!" the boy said proudly. "I made it for you."

"Thanks, kid," Jack smiled, examining the painting as the boy held it up. "Uh….what is it?

The little boy giggled. "It's Santa Fe, silly. That place you want to go to. Specs showed me how to paint!

Jack nodded still with his smile, taking the paper and ruffling the boy's hair. The boy shook off Jack's hand and looked up at him cautiously, hoping for some recognition for his hard work. 'Thanks, kid," Jack gave him, standing up. "Yous a great painter. We'll hang it up when we get back, alright?"

The little boy beamed. "Thanks, Jack!"

"Now, come on, you!" Jack swept up the kid in his arms, ignoring his first cries of protest as he deposited him on top of his shoulders. "I'll bring ya back to the Lodgin' House, Crutchie."

Crutchie laughed, holding his crutch out in front of him like a sword. "Onwards, Jack!"

"Where'd you learn a word like that?" the pair's playful conversation died away as they left James brooding on his street corner. He stared darkly after them, wondering how two poor children (one a cripple, to boot) could be so happy when their life was so despairingly horrible. James had almost more money than he needed, yet he was absolutely miserable. James clenched his teeth, crumpling up the boring newspaper and hurling it to the ground. He stuffed his hands firmly in his pockets, stalking back to his house as rain began to pelt down from the sky. With a glance up at the mahogany grandfather clock, James entered his dining room only to find his parents seated and finishing up the last of their dinner. His father waved a careless hand at him, and James moved forward to sit down.

"Where were you, son? We agreed you must not be late for dinner."

"I am sorry, father," James began, trying to explain as he smoothed down his suit. "I was reading the newspaper and I…" he trailed off as he realized that his father nor his mother were paying him any attention. James stiffened up in his chair, turning his dark eyes to his dinner. He took up a knife, starting to cut off chunks of the steak which sat in front of him. Remembering those newsboys on the street corner sent a twinge of jealousy through him. The younger boy, Crutchie, was probably entertaining that Jack and all the other newsboy friends with the story of his painting, which, in James' opinion, was just as artistic as a rock. With a stab into his steak, James began to pin his troubles on those two boys. They were the cause of all his misfortune, James thought bitterly. And he would make them pay.


	2. Chapter 2

The little girl stared out the window from her small seat, a bow in her auburn hair. She frowned slightly as she noticed the black carriage pull up to her home. She dreaded her cousin's visits, even at her age of ten years old. Katherine fixated her normally soft brown eyes on the boy that had just climbed out, with his father right behind. Her uncle and father were coming to talk about various important business matters, she knew that. Katherine didn't see why twelve-year-old James needed to come along as well. She sighed, slipping off the chair and walking over to the mirror. She straightened out her light pink dress with black buttons, and adjusted the bow. Her father always told her to seem presentable when company came. Especially if that company was James Plumber. Katherine tilted her head, and then fixed a very plausible smile on her face when a knock sounded on the door. She trotted over, admitting the two inside. The elder Plumber gave her what he thought was a comfortable smile in greeting, but the girl thought it rather looked like a shark's leer. He greeted Mr. Pulitzer as well, and the two adults crossed into the office where they began to discuss tactics. Only James stood next to her now, with his dark, penetrating eyes that could glimpse into all of her soul.

"Hello, Kat." A smile lit up James' face where he stood underneath his stocky red hair and small brown suit. Katherine's father always said he was a miniature version of his father. Katherine did not see the resemblance at all. For one, Mr. Plumber had white hair.

"Hello, James." She gave a slight shudder, and then closed the door with a bit more force than was needed.

"Touchy, today, cousin?" James moved past her into the parlour. Katherine followed, standing awkwardly to one side as James fell into the tall, brand-new plush red chair.

"No, James."

"Then what? You're still not mad about last time, are you?"

Katherine averted her eyes. "No, of course not."

James turned his piercing look onto her, turning away from where his gaze had been roaming over the Pulitzer home. "Kat, that kid got what he deserved."

"He had only been asking for money, James!" Katherine protested, daring to look at her cousin. "You didn't need to hurt him!"

"I was only scaring him a little!"

"James, you cut his arm with a knife!"

"I did not!" James stood up, getting in Katherine's determined, angry face. "He got what he deserved, that's all!"

"James, you can't say that! You attacked him first!"

"Only because he was going to attack me! I gave him a lesson and it worked, didn't it?!"

"Stop it! Stop it, James! You hurt that poor boy and I should have done something about it but I didn't! I hate you, James!"

The children's angry tones had penetrated the office of Mr. Pulitzer, and the two adults strode out to confront the scene of James' and Katherine's glaring, red faces. Katherine shot her cousin one last glare and lowered her eyes to the ground in front of her father, steaming. She knew she had done the right thing. What James had done last time had been horrible, just horrible. She didn't care if her father punished her for yelling right now. Katherine knew she had said the right thing.

Pulitzer and Mr. Plumber exchanged glances. James had also looked away from his cousin, and started to stare out the window, his eyes tracking the progress of a bird that was flitting from branch to branch, finally resting to sit on the windowsill.

His father cleared his throat, and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "James, we are leaving now. Say goodbye to your cousin."

Katherine avoided turning to James until it was absolutely necessary. Her eyes still burned, but not with tears. James stared at her sullenly, sticking out his hand.

"Goodbye, Kat."

"Goodbye, James." Hands were shaken, and James left leaving nothing but a black cloud in his absence.


	3. Chapter 3

**SEVEN YEARS LATER**

November, 1899

A slow drizzle of rain fell down from the heavy New York sky filled with thick, drooping grey clouds. The young woman with her head slightly bowed carefully made her way around the puddles, reminiscing about the times she used to splash in them, much to her delight and parent's displeasure. But those times were gone now. Though the thoughts of them had been brought up by the fact that Katherine had just received a letter from the cousin she thought had forgotten about her. She certainly hadn't forgotten James, no, definitely not. She would have liked to, though. Throughout the past years she had heard rumours of a murder in her family, though her father had mostly kept her away from that drama. All she had found out was that James had been left fatherless and had been brought up by his mother until she had sent him to a mental hospital. It was a place Katherine had suspected her cousin would be left in, though she had been as surprised as anyone when he had broken out. Her father was now supporting James in a house somewhere in New York. Katherine hadn't known exactly where until a few days ago.

Katherine remembered the moment clearly. She had been sitting with Jack in her apartment, casually talking. The conversation had took a darker turn when Jack had mentioned that some of the boys had been starting to cough and sneeze more than usual. All Katherine hoped for was not to have an outbreak of sickness in the Lodging House. With all that had happened after the strike, they didn't need anymore to worry about.

And then, of course, the letter from James had arrived. A frown had happened upon Katherine's normally positive features, and then she had quietly slipped the letter into her pocket as Jack inquired who it was from.

"No one you should worry about," she had said to Jack who didn't pursue the subject further, much to Katherine's relief.

And now here she was, turning the corner to see a small street lined with tidy houses that seemed to have been made out of the same mold by a giant. The same chimney, door, front porch and window boxes adorned each one, and it was impossible to guess which was James' from the outside. Katherine sighed slightly, and primly walked down the street. She glanced at the letter again. The number of James' home was seven. She had barely looked back at the houses when a horrible anguished screaming came from the seventh one down. Katherine winced. So this was what her cousin had been up to. Katherine walked up to his front door purposely as all the surrounding houses slammed their own doors and shuffled their children inside. The unbolting of the black door in front of Katherine seemed very loud in the now abnormally still neighborhood, and she waited patiently for James to open the door as a feeling of trepidation slowly built up inside of her.

At last, her cousin yanked open the door, and there he was. Katherine scrutinized him carefully. James Plumber still had his shock of ginger hair, dark eyes that were more sunken in than they had been, and the same long, lean face and sharp jawline. He stood quite a few inches above her in a brown scholarly suit, dark green tie and white collared shirt. Katherine could finally see the resemblance between him and his father. The way that they dressed was exactly alike. James just didn't have the grey hair yet. A smile broke out upon his face, seeming to make his wolf-like features almost normal.

"Katherine! I see you recieved my letter."

"Yes, James," she replied evenly. "How are you?"

"Fine, Kat, just fine. Come in, come in!" He ushered inside his house, and Katherine was surprised to find that it was perfectly spotless. But then, James did have an affinity for cleaning when they had been young. It only made sense that he carried on that practice now.

"Tell me, cousin," James walked into the kitchen as Katherine followed at a slower pace. "How are things with you and Uncle Joseph? I heard about that uprising of those newsboys, it's a shame you had to contend with that. Did you finally put it down?"

Katherine nodded. James smiled quickly, and turned away from her. He selected a knife and started wiping away the red spots that covered it. "Are the boys who started it in the Refuge now? That is the only place for them, really. Learning in an efficient environment—" He slotted the knife in the block. "And keeping away from trouble."

"No, James," Katherine began, and James turned harsh eyes on her. She plowed through his glare, continuing. "We struck a deal with them, lowering the price of the paper and allowing all papers they didn't sell at the end of the day to be sold back. The Refuge is now closed."

There was silence for a few moments. James smiled lightly. "I see." He pushed past Katherine down the hallway to the back of his house. Katherine glanced at the knives, two of which still had red spots of paint—or blood. Making a split second decision, she followed James. The pair entered the back room, and Katherine stopped in the doorway. She slowly took in the grimy, dusty walls and floor, and the metal table in the center. Something—or someone—with a mop of messy black hair and freckles lay on it, their hands and feet cuffed to the sides. Piles of discarded pens and notebooks filled to the brim with James' cramped writing lay on the counters, along with gleaming knives. Tattered pictures hung on the walls, depicting gruesome scenes that Katherine hurriedly looked away from.

"This is my laboratory, Kat," James called out, jolting her from her reverie. "Where I do my most important work. Testing, experimenting—all different ways to slash and stab and kill lesser beings than ourselves."

"James, what do you mean by lesser beings?" Though Katherine suspected she knew the answer.

"Orphans, good-for-nothing beggars, newsboys without families, cripples….all children, of course. Better to get rid of them all when they're young."

"James," Katherine half-whispered, appalled. "Who is that on the table?"

"No one of importance, Kat," James spat out. "What does it matter to you?"

"You are hurting innocent children, James!" Katherine burst out. "You may believe that it is all for science—but it is wrong! Just because they aren't the same as us, or they're poor doesn't give you the right to take them and—and experiment on them, James!"

"I am doing society a favor!" James shouted at her, slashing the knife downwards in the air. "I am eradicating the weak ones no one wants, needs or cares about! Who really cares about worthless newsboys and cripples, Kat?!"

Katherine stepped up to her cousin, staring straight into his maddened eyes. "Some of us do," she said quietly. "We look past their weaknesses, if it were, and take them for what they are."

James lifted his head, looking down on her. "Uncle Joseph told me of your involvement in the so-called strike. He mentioned that you had begun courting a newsboy. How could you, Kat? They are nothing compared to our level of society."

A moment passed, and then Katherine's hand rose up as she slapped her cousin on the cheek. He reeled back, and Katherine stormed icily out of the room. James stood there for a moment, and then raced after Katherine angrily. "You can't keep your friends from me, Kat! I'll find them, and I will take them! They'll be dead before you can blink! You can't stop me, Kat, no one can! I'll make your precious newsboys suffer towards the end! They won't be able to go anywhere without living in fear of me! I will break them, just as you ruined my life! They won't be safe anywhere in this city! I'll find them, and I will kill them all! And then maybe you'll finally see my truth!"

Katherine blinked hot, angry tears out of her eyes as she slammed the door to James' house and strode away down the street, away from the accursed neighborhood. Silently she vowed never to go near it again.

Night fell as Katharine unlocked the door to her apartment, steeling herself to tell Jack about her cousin and his threat. Jack hurried out of the kitchen, worry apparent on his face.

"You seen Romeo anywhere?"

Something clicked in Katherine's mind as the image of the body on the table in James' laboratory came back to her. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. "Oh no," she whispered, horrified. Katharine turned back around and raced out the door. "No!"


End file.
